


Wartime Blues

by flugantamuso



Category: Grey's Anatomy, MASH (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-06 03:29:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flugantamuso/pseuds/flugantamuso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Alex, the idea of becoming a doctor had always included prestige, respect, and dozens of beautiful nurses. Korea had nurses, so he got one out of three.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Alex**

It wasn’t any part of Alex’ dreams to be in a war. He’d always thought, foolishly, that becoming a doctor would shield him from the nastier parts of his patriotic duty.

No such luck.

When his draft number came up the army was only too happy to add another doctor to their numbers. He didn’t even get a residency before he was shipped out to Korea to spend years operating in a tent.

For Alex, the idea of becoming a doctor had always included prestige, respect, and dozens of beautiful nurses.

Korea had nurses, so he got one out of three.

His fellow doctors were grimfaced men who alternately yelled or joked. His brand of sarcasm didn’t seem to translate very well with them. He had better luck with the nurses, who were happy to have fresh blood to play with. The exceptions were the head nurse, who already seemed to be attached, and the three new nurses who had their eyes on the other doctors.

The food was terrible, supplies were scarce, and even the frequent sex couldn’t keep him busy for very long, so he took to teasing his roomate, a pudgy, earnest young man who turned out to have more of a backbone than Alex expected. The itching powder that he left in George’s bed strangely transferred itself to his own. The rumors that he spread about George died after George talked to Meredith. After that talk no one seemed to want to sleep with him either.

So Alex became more creative. He painted George’s soap with clear fingernail polish. George didn’t seem to notice. He spiked George’s tea with vodka, and then spent one horrible night listening to George sing.

He got nasty, he called names, told very dirty stories, and watched George turn red and look slightly hurt. It was ridiculous, and it was also slightly annoying.

George spent his evenings playing cards with Cristina and Meredith, and baking with Izzy. Alex spent his evenings alone.

He tried a peace offering, but George didn’t want it.

Alex seethed. He tried to join the card games, but Cristina threw him out. It was lonely. He spent a lot of time reading, jogging.

Then one night George had a fight with Meredith and sat around their tent sulking. Alex read his book and ignored him. Finally George broke the silence.

“I just wish that she would give it up already, you know?”

Alex did know, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care that George was mooning over Meredith, while Meredith had hopelessly entangled her heart with an unavailable doctor. He said so, and George got angry, and they had their first full-blown fight, which was good.

Afterwards George went back to the girls’ tent. Alex followed him and they all played cards.

George frustrated Alex, and they fought more often than they got along, but they worked together well in surgery, and as long as George refrained from singing, they could drink together. George had a tendency to leave his clothes all over the tent, and Alex had a tendency to have sex in places where George would walk in on him. This often caused fights, and fights often ended with drinking.

Four months into his tour Alex was surprised to find himself telling his mother in a letter that George was his best friend. He probably wasn’t George’s best friend, but they did alright together.

Six months in George’s father died, and he was gone for three months for the funeral. Alex played cards with Cristina, had sex with Izzy and found himself missing George. He was gentler than he intended to be when George came back, and they didn’t fight for two weeks. Then George caught Alex in bed with Meredith, and they had the mother of all fights.

George moved in with Cristina, which made the whole camp buzz, and he didn’t speak to Alex for a month.

The day that they did speak again was after a long day of surgery in which they had both lost patients. George put his head down on the sink in the scrub room, and Alex put his hand on the back of George’s neck before he thought about it. George turned his head to look at him and said nothing.

That night George moved back in.

**Izzy**

What I missed most about the states was the easy access to baking supplies. Here I had to beg access to the oven, and my supplies came to me in small, precious packages every month. The small offerings that I produced made me very popular, doubly so around mealtime when everyone was eyeing the food in the mess tent warily.

I also missed the babies. I had been working with a neonatal surgeon before I was asked to come here. Now I wonder why I left.

I had Meredith, and George and Cristina, and occasionally Alex, and that made things a little better, but Cristina had Meredith, Meredith had her obsession with her surgeon, Alex had George, and George had his letters from home. I never got any letters, not that I would have wanted them if they’d come, but it made me feel more cut off than they seemed to be.

I learned how to play a mean game of cards, and I fed people, and cared for patients, an endless stream of young men who had lost their innocence, even if they hadn’t lost their limbs.

Cristina turned twenty-eight and the whole camp turned out to wish her a happy birthday. There was a whole lot of alcohol, and a cake, and best of all no helicopters. Cristina actually looked happy for once.

The cake was mine of course, my creation, so I spent half the night getting congratulated on it, and the other half ruefully washing dishes. I guess it wasn’t a bad sort of life.

The next morning the helicopters came again, and we went back to work, no hint of the party animals that we had been in the pinched faces bending over the surgery tables. I didn’t like surgery. I felt helpless, dependant on the surgeon’s skills and not on my own. I hoped that I never ended up on one of those tables.

The recovery ward was better, a place where I was clearly in charge, at least of the patients assigned to me, and I watched over them as carefully as I had my cake as it rose. Most of these men would be shipped out in a day or two, a week at most for the difficult cases. Sometimes I felt that they were the lucky ones, and then one of them would go through with only one leg, or no arms, and I’d be grateful that I was a woman, and not expected to enter the battlefield.

These poor men would have broken my heart if I’d let them, but I’d wrapped my heart in my pastries and pies, because it was safe with them. They’d never leave and take it with them. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I’d been less careful, if I’d fallen in love with a soldier and folled him home from the war. Would we have had children? Made love in a bed with white sheets? But it hasn’t happened and it won’t happen. I’m still in Korea, still feeding doctors and nurses and taking care of patients and hoping that the war will end before I’ve lost the habit of love.

**Cristina.**

Meredith irritated Cristina. She cares so damn much about her surgeon, and he/s never going to do more than look longingly at her across the surgery table. It’s so stupid.

But it’s also Meredith’s only lifeline on normality, and Cristina isn’t going to fault her that. They all need something.

For her it’s doing her job as well as she can, which is better than anyone else could do it. Every helicopter comes with a fresh problem to be solved, a new case to decipher. It’s most interesting when they first came in, but there are things to be learned in recovery as well.

Once a perfectly normal-looking patient who is recovering from leg surgery starts convulsing on the bed, the front of his robe turning bright red. It turnes out that the poor idiot has had shrapnel nestled in close to his lungs, and no one has even noticed. It’s these things that teach her to pay attention. Surgeons can make mistakes, and so they’ve all got to pay attention.

Meredith doesn’t seem to pay attention, but her patients always end up healthy in the end, and she’s quick in the OR.

They’re friends because they’re similar in ways, both very good at what they do, because Cristina needs a friend, because they get along surprisingly well, better than anyone else has gotten along with Cristina in a long time.

But Meredith still irritates her at times.

Tonight they’re playing cards with Izzy. George and Alex backed out, and Cristina knows that they’re off doing something obscene together. It annoys her, and she’s not quite sure why. Izzy has brought muffins, which is half of why they let her play, and all of why Meredith is letting her win. Cristina brought the alcohol, and she’s the one drinking most of it, though Meredith has taken her share. Izzy isn’t drinking, as she’s scheduled for the late shift in the recovery ward.

Finally Izzy wins, because Cristina is having trouble keeping her eyes on her cards, and Meredith is only pretending to play. They put the cards away and finish off the muffins, and Izzy goes off to work, a pale goddess in blue scrubs. The patients love her. She’s hard not to love. Even Cristina, who is capable of disliking anyone, usually likes Izzy. She likes Meredith as well, and tells her so. Meredith just laughs and tells Cristina to go to sleep. Cristina does, mellow and happy. Tomorrow will be soon enough to go back to being irracible.

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izzy goes off to work, a pale goddess in blue scrubs. The patients love her. She’s hard not to love. Even Cristina, who is capable of disliking anyone, usually likes Izzy.

**Izzy**

The next morning the helicopters came again, and we went back to work, no hint of the party animals that we had been in the pinched faces bending over the surgery tables. I didn’t like surgery. I felt helpless, dependant on the surgeon’s skills and not on my own. I hoped that I never ended up on one of those tables.

The recovery ward was better, a place where I was clearly in charge, at least of the patients assigned to me, and I watched over them as carefully as I had my cake as it rose. Most of these men would be shipped out in a day or two, a week at most for the difficult cases. Sometimes I felt that they were the lucky ones, and then one of them would go through with only one leg, or no arms, and I’d be grateful that I was a woman, and not expected to enter the battlefield.

These poor men would have broken my heart if I’d let them, but I’d wrapped my heart in my pastries and pies, because it was safe with them. They’d never leave and take it with them. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I’d been less careful, if I’d fallen in love with a soldier and folled him home from the war. Would we have had children? Made love in a bed with white sheets? But it hasn’t happened and it won’t happen. I’m still in Korea, still feeding doctors and nurses and taking care of patients and hoping that the war will end before I’ve lost the habit of love.

Cristina:

Meredith irritates Cristina. She cares so damn much about her surgeon, and he/s never going to do more than look longingly at her across the surgery table. It’s so stupid.

But it’s also Meredith’s only lifeline on normality, and Cristina isn’t going to fault her that. They all need something.

For her it’s doing her job as well as she can, which is better than anyone else could do it. Every helicopter comes with a fresh problem to be solved, a new case to decipher. It’s most interesting when they first came in, but there are things to be learned in recovery as well.

Once a perfectly normal-looking patient who is recovering from leg surgery starts convulsing on the bed, the front of his robe turning bright red. It turnes out that the poor idiot has had shrapnel nestled in close to his lungs, and no one has even noticed. It’s these things that teach her to pay attention. Surgeons can make mistakes, and so they’ve all got to pay attention.

Meredith doesn’t seem to pay attention, but her patients always end up healthy in the end, and she’s quick in the OR.

They’re friends because they’re similar in ways, both very good at what they do, because Cristina needs a friend, because they get along surprisingly well, better than anyone else has gotten along with Cristina in a long time.

But Meredith still irritates her at times.

Tonight they’re playing cards with Izzy. George and Alex backed out, and Cristina knows that they’re off doing something obscene together. It annoys her, and she’s not quite sure why. Izzy has brought muffins, which is half of why they let her play, and all of why Meredith is letting her win. Cristina brought the alcohol, and she’s the one drinking most of it, though Meredith has taken her share. Izzy isn’t drinking, as she’s scheduled for the late shift in the recovery ward.

Finally Izzy wins, because Cristina is having trouble keeping her eyes on her cards, and Meredith is only pretending to play. They put the cards away and finish off the muffins, and Izzy goes off to work, a pale goddess in blue scrubs. The patients love her. She’s hard not to love. Even Cristina, who is capable of disliking anyone, usually likes Izzy. She likes Meredith as well, and tells her so. Meredith just laughs and tells Cristina to go to sleep. Cristina does, mellow and happy. Tomorrow will be soon enough to go back to being irracible.


End file.
